The morning sun was already beginning to bake the stone of the balcony, making my lukewarm tea taste slightly bitter. Wearing my dress in broad daylight. I was staring out at the flower fields, trying to let the silence settle over me, when the sharp, rhythmic tap of Miera's boots signaled her arrival.
She didn't wait for an invitation. She marched onto the balcony, her face twisted into a look of stern, calculated annoyance that made me instinctively want to duck.
"Roxy, that performance yesterday? It was a disaster. It almost crossed every professional line I have. You should be ashamed of yourself for turning my life into your personal romantic experiment." she started, her voice clipped.
I couldn't help it, a bubble of laughter escaped me. It was ridiculous, really.
"Miera, come on. Look on the bright side. At least now you have a boyfriend who thinks you hung the moon."
Miera didn't find it funny. Her eyes narrowed into slits.
"This is your punishment, Roxy. You are going to pay for this. You want to play at being Miera? Fine. You will be the one working at the manor. Use your shapeshifting ability to take my place, and I am taking a well-earned day off."
I still went still. The guilt, which had been a dull ache, suddenly sharpened. I owed her this… I owed her everything for the chaos I'd forced her into.
"Sure, I'll be you from now on. I deserve it. Where are you going, anyway?" I said, my voice quiet.
"I'm visiting my mother, she's at the hospital, undergoing the rehabilitation program. I haven't seen her in far too long." Miera replied, her expression softening just a fraction, though the frustration remained.
My mind flashed to Maine… the way he had looked at her under the moonlight, the way he had finally found his footing.
"What about Maine? Does he know? Is he going to be expecting his girlfriend to be around?" I asked, a sliver of anxiety creeping in.
"I already handled it, I told him I'd be busy with chores and needed space to focus. He's a researcher; he understands the need for solitude. I'll be back tomorrow." Miera said with a dismissive wave.
She reached into her apron pocket and fished out a small, iron key. She tossed it onto the table between us. It clattered loudly against the wood.
"That's the key to my room, you'll find my spare maid dress in the wardrobe. Of course you'll need it… you can't walk around the manor in your own clothes if you're supposed to be me." she said, turning on her heel.
I watched her walk away, the key sitting there like a small, heavy anchor. For the first time, I wasn't the strategist, the adventurer, or the manipulator. I was just a girl who had to put on a dress and scrub floors, wondering how on earth I was going to survive twenty-four hours in someone else's skin.
After Miera left, I suddenly went to Miera's room, it was labeled, Floor 1-C. As I arrived there, my gaze suddenly shifted.
Miera's room was a revelation. While my own quarters were often a chaotic battlefield of research notes, alchemy vials, and lingering combat adrenaline, her space was a sanctuary of order. Everything was dusted, lined up to the millimeter, and smelled faintly of lavender. It was almost intimidating… the quiet perfection of a woman who clearly took pride in her station. I stood in the center of her rug, feeling like a chaotic storm that had wandered into a library.
"Plasma, shapeshift me into Miera!"
"Oh, come on Roxy, don't be so pathetic. You're playing with fire and you should be ashamed of yourself."
"Shut up you dickless assistant"
Suddenly an icon appeared in front of me.
[Analyzing genetic data... 100% match found in blood reservoir. Commencing Morphological Shift.]
I focused my intent, the familiar, warping sensation of my shapeshifting skill rippling across my skin. My features softened and shifted, my hair darkened and pinned itself into the precise, modest style Miera favored. But the most jarring, and wonderful, part of the transformation was the sensation of weight returning to my left shoulder.
I flexed my fingers. My arm was there—flesh, bone, and perfectly functional. I moved both hands, testing the dexterity, marvelling at how much simpler the world became when I wasn't compensating for a missing limb. I felt balanced, whole, and completely disguised.
[Visual confirmation: 100% accuracy. Heart rate, scent, and vocal cords successfully calibrated. Successfully shapeshifted into Miera Amber]
I slipped into her spare maid dress, smoothed the apron, and stepped out into the hallway.
The first person I collided with was Snow Flower. She was pacing the corridor, checking the dust levels on the sconces with a queen's discerning eye. She turned, her gaze sweeping over me with a cool, familiar expectation.
"Miera, the manor's state is... lacking. There is grit in the foyer and shadows in the dining hall. Take a mop and a bucket. I want every inch of these floors shining by the time the bell rings for the midday break." she said, her voice smooth but demanding.
"Yes, Your Majesty,"
I replied, perfectly mimicking Miera's humble, melodic tone. I bowed, suppressed a shiver of delight at the ease with which she'd accepted the facade, and promptly gathered my tools.
Suddenly, Plasma interrupted me just in time.
"Hahahahahaha… the hero of the town was scrubbing floors. I knew you came up with this!"
"Oh my… please shut up."
"Oh, don't tell me to shut up, Roxy. You're becoming a mother right now! As long as you're a hardworking lady, Cassuis will soon interact with you."
"Oh for the millionth time, Shut up!'
For the next two hours, I threw myself into the task with a ferocity that would have surprised any of the guild members. There was a meditative, strange joy in having two hands again. I didn't just mop; I attacked the grime. I scrubbed the baseboards, polished the mahogany until it reflected the chandeliers, and hunted down every stray spot of dirt.
It was grueling. My lower back ached, and sweat prickled at my hairline, but every time I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the polished floor, I felt a surge of triumph. I was proud of Miera. I was Miera.
Just as I finished the final corner of the grand hallway, the heavy, brassy chime of the manor bell rang out through the house. It was the signal for the staff's break.
I dropped the mop into the bucket with a heavy clatter and slumped against the wall, sliding down until I hit the floor. I let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief, watching the hallway… which now gleamed like a mirror, and feeling the exhaustion of a day's honest work settle into my bones. For the first time in a long time, the only thing I had to worry about was the cleanliness of the floor, not the fate of a kingdom.